


Ahead of Yourself

by stephanericher



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: KNBxNBA, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-28
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2020-05-28 16:09:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19397641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stephanericher/pseuds/stephanericher
Summary: “You’re being melodramatic,” says Tatsuya. “You’ll be back for dinner.”





	Ahead of Yourself

**Author's Note:**

> for dw user hibari1_chan
> 
> prompt was 'leaving you behind'
> 
> taiga is a beach purist he can't help it

Leaving is hard. 

Leaving is always hard. 

It was hard when Taiga left his mother and his friends and his whole life to cross an ocean to a place where he didn’t know anyone or anything, where he felt alone for what had felt like years (an exaggeration, yes, but too long nonetheless) until he’d met Tatsuya. It was hard to leave that place and come back to somewhere he no longer belonged, to leave his father and his friends, and Alex, and the hope that he could patch things up with Tatsuya someday.

He’d kept the hope alive despite himself, and Tatsuya had followed him, but here he is, leaving Tatsuya all over again.

(And his friends, his life, a place he really did belong after all, though there is some of that waiting on the other side.) He can’t ask Tatsuya to come back too, ask him to leave the same things--Tatsuya will probably do it anyway, and Taiga knew that without Tatsuya whispering into his shoulder that he’d be back too before Taiga knew it when he’d hugged him goodbye, but that doesn’t make up for Taiga doing this when he has the choice not to. That when they’ve found each other again, when they’ve started to rebuild their foundation, he just goes back to LA and leaves Tatsuya behind again, a gnawing guilt like a cat chewing on a wire, jaw clenching tighter when Taiga remembers how happy Tatsuya is for him, for having this opportunity. 

He promises himself, staring into his hands on a too-small airplane seat, that he won’t waste it. For Tatsuya, and for himself.

* * *

Lake water is nothing like the ocean water Taiga’s used to, the wash of the salt over his feet, the movement and the color. His instinct is to put his hand out to stop anyone who calls this a beach; it’s nice but it’s not that, a wholly different category in his mind--it's not a beach if you can't surf on the water. (The water he’s used to is also a hell of a lot warmer than this, and he doesn’t have to get into pointless stamina contests with Tatsuya when they’re back in LA, but that’s beside the point.)

“It’s not bad,” says Tatsuya, though he looks as if he very much wants to cross his arms over his chest, though his hands are loosely at his sides.

“Your fingernails are blue,” says Taiga. 

Tatsuya frowns and steps deeper into the water; Taiga pulls on his arm. “The front office will kill me if you get hypothermia.”

Tatsuya turns to smile at Taiga, like this is all something he planned for.

“I’m going to have to carry you out,” says Taiga.

(He’s not jumping for the opportunity; his heart isn’t stuffed into his throat like cheese in a grilled mushroom. That’s not what this is about.)

Tatsuya steps back again, leaning in closer to Taiga.

“So you are cold,” Taiga says (he’s not proud of how close his breath is to hitching in the back of his mouth).

“It’s refreshing.”

Tatsuya glances out at the horizon, eastward until the lake disappears over it, and Taiga watches him watch. It was easier to keep his crush on Tatsuya buried deep inside him when they played on different teams. It was easier to keep it in denial, and it didn’t feel so bad, like a betrayal of their long-relinquished so-called brotherhood--but that’s not how it feels at all. Tatsuya’s way better at lying to himself than Taiga is; he always has been. But it was Tatsuya who’d chased Taiga to Japan, back to LA, to the NBA, and finally engineered his own trade to Chicago. Maybe Taiga’s putting an outsize importance on himself here, but Tatsuya’s made enough remarks over the years, glancing blows he could have easily landed harder, that he’d always thought he’d be the one in the lead. They’re more self-deprecating than angry now, even looking through the layers of Tatsuya’s voice and his tendency to mix up the two into a venom, but it hurts Taiga just as much. Maybe it was better for him to develop the way he did, better for Tatsuya to go his own path, but he could have tried harder to end up closer to Tatsuya--if not on the Knicks with him, then with the Nets or the Sixers. Or something.

He can’t imagine leaving the Bulls, though, or the life he has here, including the lakeside beaches. But Tatsuya had given his version of that up, to be here.

* * *

They walk back towards their apartment sunburned and already starting to miss the icy lake water just a little bit. It’s too hot for the streets to be very crowded, and the emptiness of the water-stuffed air makes Taiga want to grab onto Tatsuya’s hand more than usual. It makes him want to confess everything, his guilt and the shame that clings to it, all that he wants despite that. (Is this how Tatsuya feels all the time, to get those emotions seeping into everything? How can he stand it if it is?)

“I’m sorry,” says Taiga.

Tatsuya looks up at him. Taiga can see the edge of his sunburn recede just under the neckline of his t-shirt.

“I’m glad you’re here with me, and I know you’re happy to be here, too, but--I just keep making you follow me and I know that’s not what you want. And I know I wouldn’t have wanted to leave here, but I feel like I made you choose me, or maybe I’m wrong, but?”

“Oh, Taiga,” Tatsuya says, taking his hand. “You never made me feel that way. I came here to be with you, and I knew you wanted to play with me, but I wouldn’t have left New York if I didn’t want to. I loved it there, and I won’t deny that it’s difficult sometimes for me to take a backseat to you--which is nothing you’re doing to push me back. But I wouldn’t have asked for a trade so I could make a point about making sacrifices, or if I didn’t want to leave. I’m here because I wanted to be here more than I wanted to be there, so please don’t feel bad.”

If there’s a higher power, Taiga wouldn’t thank it for letting Tatsuya understand him. That’s all Tatsuya. He squeezes Tatsuya’s hand; he probably doesn’t want to be thanked, but Taiga wants to. Guilt is still spilling out of him; he hates it.

Tatsuya hugs him. It’s too fucking hot; there’s too much sweat; Tatsuya’s chin is rubbing against his sunburn.

* * *

All of Tatsuya’s calculated restraint and insinuations go nowhere when the team takes a day trip to Indiana without him. He could play; the decision is that he won’t, to go easy on his nagging elbow injury while it’s the beginning of the season and there’s a lot of slack in the standings. Tatsuya will argue infinitely about how the fourth game is just as important as the eighty-first, perhaps more so, but in the end he respects the coaches’ decision and doesn’t come. 

Taiga has many fewer opportunities to show his displeasure with the decision, starting from how he’s only had one game so far with Tatsuya and that’s been not nearly enough of a taste, ending with that Tatsuya fucking wants to play and he’s medically cleared to do so. He tells all of this to Tatsuya, and Tatsuya agrees, but in the end he defers, and in the end Taiga has to leave him. Again.

“You’re being melodramatic,” says Tatsuya. “You’ll be back for dinner.”

“I know,” Taiga says. “But I want to play with you. I love you.”

This is the worst moment to say this, the worst moment to bring this up, the worst moment to have to claim he meant it in a different way. It’s got nothing to do with anything, and it’s just going to make Tatsuya angry. 

Except he doesn’t look angry, even a little. 

“Don’t you get injured, too,” says Tatsuya. 

He cups Taiga’s chin in his hand and pulls him down into a kiss, brief but full. 

“We can talk about this when you get home,” Tatsuya says. 

“Yeah,” says Taiga. “Okay.”

(He still hasn’t processed it--he probably won’t until they actually do talk about it, but here he goes getting ahead of himself again.)

“I, uh. Shouldn’t be late.”

“Probably not,” says Tatsuya, nudging him toward the door. 

He doesn’t close it until Taiga’s in the elevator.


End file.
